


It was a Stormy Night

by Daastan_Go



Category: Naruto
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Lust, Morbid, Sex, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 21:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16436993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daastan_Go/pseuds/Daastan_Go
Summary: It was a stormy night, and something had changed inside him . . .





	It was a Stormy Night

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, and this is a free work of fiction written for personal pleasure.

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A flock of birds darted out over the water and skimmed the quiet lake. He stood there under the sky when the sun was brightest. A warm hue burnt its way down the side of his cheek. It was a warm day, and the leaves had lost their lustre, yellowed upon the ground.

Upon crunching leaves, summer had come. Slithering lights, bright and yellow, descended on waves, their undersides a soft green shade, as they fell with a muted cadence upon the pebbled shore. Mist was rising from the exhaling pores of earth, and soon, the ground would be a thrall to its presence.

A girl came out from between the maze of blooming trees, her feet crushing the leaves, and he turned a little to look upon her girlish countenance: she had arranged the red hair with a curious curl over the forehead today. She whiffed the air and wrinkled her small nose and pink freckles came closer to appear as red stains on her cheeks.

"It's getting cold. We've got to make it back before the nightfall," she spoke in a chiming sort of voice and placed her hand on the tree's bark behind her.

He turned his head away and gazed at the lake, its quietness was a forlorn song of silence. Beyond its shores, trees stood silent with a sheen of moisture upon their rough forms. Soon, a dark would rise from their midst and spill over the lake to darken its shades. Then moon's soft lights would glide along the dark waters, singing in unspeaking tongues for the unheeding ears of the forest.

This had been a strange mission. He was asked to deliver a message to a man in a small outpost. He went there with her when the sun was cold and the land's contours were dim. A light drizzle hindered his vision, so he had drawn out his Sharingan to see better. The man was a fat one, and he looked at him strange. His frumpy apparel did not make him seem any more presentable.

Sasuke took the message from his pudgy hand—the man was a little eager to grasp his hand in his and stroke the skin in suggestive motions—and left before indifference drained from his face to be replaced by annoyance. The girl had been chirpy and matched his pace to make haste to the next meeting-point. The storm's anger grew.

White sparks made bright the forest and bled the shades dry—like colours in a painting that diluted in the rain. A wolf, lost and hungry in the forest, had stood in their path. It growled, unafraid of lightning's temper, and contracted its muzzle to snarl a challenge.

Then it lunged, feet propelling it forward to cover about five metres in a heartbeat, and she had hidden behind his back with a sudden whimper. He did not want to fell a hungry animal, so he pulled out his long Kunai and curled his fingers firmly around the hilt to use it to his advantage.

As soon as it came within an arm's reach, he slid out of the way and hit its head. The heavy hilt struck the wolf's snout. It whined, turned its head to the side, and closed its eyes. Then it went skidding back across the muddy ground, unbalanced, its legs sliding and churning to find its footing.

The agility of its movements was surprising. In a second, it righted itself and shewed its angry countenance to him, its skin a twisted curl around the sharp teeth. It stalked to the left and then to the right, rumbling sounds coming from the depth of its throat, but it dared not approach him in the red light that issued forth from his eyes.

Its skin trembled and rippled over the visible bumps of its ribcage, its fine fur muddy and matted. Seeing its pitiful condition, he knew it would never survive the storm; so he reached into his satchel and threw a dried-up chunk of meat at it that was wrapped in a cloth. He had taken it with himself—just in the case the journey was prolonged.

Without any hesitation, it approached the cloth, sniffed it, and emitted a satisfied gruff. Then it picked it up delicately between its jaws and disappeared into the arms of the dark.

"Sasuke! Why did you do that? We've got nothing to eat, and the next outpost is miles away!" she spoke, her voice ringing above the ululations of the forest and winds.

"It's fine, Karin—we'll find something in the forest," he said with an air of finality, his face dark in the night. Then he walked ahead, with her floundering in his wake against the wind, to the caves up in the mountains. They had to take refuge for the night . . .

The refuge of the cave was a cold one. Sasuke and she put a large rock before the mouth to keep the water from pouring into the cave. He lit a fire to illuminate the area. Thankfully, he had picked up a couple of dry branches from the forest in the morning: sun had been a warm companion then.

Now, the fire crackled and flickered in the stray wind that dumped droplets of cold rain (from a gap above the stone) in their direction, but it was bearable. Karin had wrung her hair out till slow drops fell from the long dark tips. Her cheeks were decorated with a cold blush. She pouted her rosy mouth and crawled her way to him. It was night and he was tired, so he did not protest.

"I win!" she ejaculated and pressed into him.

Sasuke frowned. She had made a bet that if he did not reach the second meeting-place before the nightfall, he would give her what she wanted.

Then she arched her neck and whispered: "Put it in me. You agreed you'd do it if you lost—don't you turn thirteen today?"

He did not think a storm would stop his journey; but yes, he had made a promise to her, and yes, it was his birthday today. Karin curled her arms around Sasuke's neck and pressed her body against his. He was a boy of thirteen now, but he had never been embroiled in the passions of blooming youths. At this moment, he felt a pleasure—the strangest sort—fill his centre, roll down to the idle flesh between his thighs, and swell in his loins.

He had never thought of mating before. He had read of it, seen it depictured in Shunga in passion-colours, but he never thought he would be asked to perform such an act. He wanted to ask his mentor, but the mere thought filled him with shame . . . surely, his mentor would understand that he chose to lose his virtue in an age so young? He sighed.

It was a stormy night, and his body had lost the strength in the struggle to make it here. Sweat was expelled from his skin in response. He wanted to shove her away, but it would be a terrible idea in the storm. He had promised, and if she ran out in frustration, he would have to search for her, and he did not have the heart, nor the patience, for such an arduous task. So he sat in silence, feeling his loins burn in his trousers with a delicious heat. It was such a new feeling . . .

Karin strained her neck and pressed a little kiss to Sasuke's throat, and the blood there smote the skin with a visible mark. His heart thudded and sent a sinister rhythm through his veins, and his body responded with a silent bloom and sweat. Seeing his expressionless face, she grew bolder and planted open-mouthed, wet kisses along his soft jaw—he was a boy still, after all.

Her hand proceeded lower and rested on the inside of his thigh. His beautiful face had a calm and sweet expression—something she had never seen before. In the light of fire, she saw a glow deepen to red in his cheeks and nape. Curious of the anatomy between his legs, she stole a hesitant glance at his deep eyes and then cupped the thing with an innocent movement.

A soft sigh spilt from Sasuke's lips that caused his eyes to shut. His nape and brow were dotted with quivering sweat-drops: few crawled down his skin and drew a magnificent map over his changed countenance and flesh. Karin wore a curl of a sweet smile. She was a girl still, not a woman—yet.

She did not know how to . . . play with him. Books were only books, and here he was, sitting with a calm disposition by her side, body sweat-riddled, flesh eager. She brushed her palm against that growing flesh in rough strokes, and it pulsed and twitched in his trousers, demanding attention.

Sasuke's brow was strained, and in his countenance was an air of boyish lust. Karin's own heart was a whipping fish in her breast. The place between her legs had grown so moist, aching for . . . his flesh that grew in length and thickness. Impatient, she removed her clothes, and stood with a body abloom with the sweetest red shade—in the traversing shades of shadows cast by the flames. When he heard the rustling, he watched her, confused, but did not stop her movements.

Karin's flesh was tender, coated with sweat, and trembling under his gaze. She had a slight flare to her thighs, but her breasts were still like that of a child; between her pink-tinted thighs were two fleshes that hung beyond the soft clasp of swollen lips. Mucus hung from a few sparse hairs that adorned her genitals. A sudden thought breached his mind, and it was so primal that he felt himself grow thicker at the prospect of a thorough exploration of her channel.

Then Karin sat down and reached a hand towards Sasuke's idle one, grabbed hold of it, and guided it to her genitals. He wanted to pull away, but something in him prodded his baser-self to indulge his urges. His fingers glided a smooth path down towards the groove, and to his surprise, she grew more wet—more slick.

Swooning breaths came from her lips, her face lovely as it assumed the agony of a wild expression that he found most strange. He plunged one finger inside, and the tightness made something dark thrum at the back of his head. A redder shade crossed his vision, his Sharingan singing, a silent falsetto, in the chorus that resounded and rebounded in his mortal flesh.

Karin laid down on her stomach, and her wet thighs came together to create a soft seam of her round buttocks, to join the slick lips and hide the soft warm hole that awaited his response. Sasuke took off his shirt, took out his escalating arousal, and broached, with the hard flesh, her cask of virtue, slowly, slowly, and drew a string of red with a backstroke.

He pushed in, pumped fiercely, and drew out to enjoy the pull of her tight channel against the flesh of his crown. He pressed his breast against her back, her hair abrading the skin, and his muscles collapsed into hers. Joined deeply, he rode her hard, his mind contracted to a single dot in the universe and everything collapsed away—vibrations running through this loam-house made of flesh and heated by spirit.

Her gasps were a sweet music to his ears, her sheath, a dark, dark place that had stripped him of his thoughts and of things back home. His hips rolled, pumping full into the depths of her, setting the skin of her back and buttocks to rippling—it was bliss, nothing but the sweetest bliss, and it had whittled a piece of his spirit down to a toy for his flesh's hands!

Karin's laboured breaths sent the dirt upon the ground puffing up. Her fingers trembled beneath his. From overhead, sharp tips of dried-up tree-roots let loose streamlets of cold water that fell down and collided with the skin burning—with wild blood boiling in the web of veins, muscle coils pulsing underneath the organic cover stretched to its limit. Bodies trembled, danced, writhed with a rhythm they knew by design.

The press of his breast and tingling skin against hers, and she felt like her world had just begun and changed, starting from inside that place from where the vibrations originated. They scaled her flesh and wormed deep into her bones and rattled them to make muted notes of music. She . . . loved him. It was love. This was love! Her body sung, in love!

Colours swept through the little particles of dust, pretty little fireflies, gliding and glimpsing right before her hazy eyes, such pretty illuminations to entice her in the flood of fire's light. His lips at her nape burnt raw, a cool fire that sizzled her flesh inside out.

He grew thicker, hotter, eager to expel inside her, and his spirit and flesh had come together in his breast to create delicate strings that were plucked to produce a wondrous tremolo; and it poured forth from the tip to flood her estuary . . . he was spent, and his body moulded into hers after the release . . .

Then, as the feeling of frenzy mellowed and drained from Sasuke's body, he backed away, breathing harsh and ragged, and watched a vulgar mixture of arousal, blood, and semen flow out from the slit between her thighs. Left streaks of white across her buttocks he had, too. There were these little vibrations in the flesh that rose from his thighs again at the sight of his own artistry, and he gulped. She rolled onto her back, face red and mouth smiling, and opened her thighs wide to allow him to enter her again, and he was so charmed by the tunes of his loins and lust that he lay upon her and entered the dark loam—yet again.

When morning came, Sasuke's demeanour had changed, much to her dismay. The storm inside him had faded, too. Outside, a light was sent spilling from between the two peaks. The ground was covered in wet leaves, soggy. So they left off, Karin in Sasuke's wake, silent, their destination another meeting-place . . .

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**The End**

 


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